The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
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CHAPTER VII 50<br />
aunt snatched her from that position she unconsciously threw her arms around the old lady's neck and rained<br />
kisses upon her.<br />
"Foolish child, what's the matter with you?" the old lady was at last able to say as she wiped a tear from her<br />
faded eyes. Maria Clara felt ashamed and covered her eyes with her plump arm.<br />
"Come on, get ready, come!" added the old aunt fondly. "While he is talking to your father about you. Come,<br />
don't make him wait." Like a child the maiden obediently followed her and they shut themselves up in her<br />
chamber.<br />
Capitan Tiago and Ibarra were conversing in a lively manner when Aunt Isabel appeared half dragging her<br />
niece, who was looking in every direction except toward the persons in the room.<br />
What said those two souls communicating through the language of the eyes, more perfect than that of the lips,<br />
the language given to the soul in order that sound may not mar the ecstasy of feeling? In such moments, when<br />
the thoughts of two happy beings penetrate into each other's souls through the eyes, the spoken word is<br />
halting, rude, and weak--it is as the harsh, slow roar of the thunder compared with the rapidity of the dazzling<br />
lightning flash, expressing feelings already recognized, ideas already understood, and if words are made use<br />
of it is only because the heart's desire, dominating all the being and flooding it with happiness, wills that the<br />
whole human organism with all its physical and psychical powers give expression to the song of joy that rolls<br />
through the soul. To the questioning glance of love, as it flashes out and then conceals itself, speech has no<br />
reply; the smile, the kiss, the sigh answer.<br />
Soon the two lovers, fleeing from the dust raised <strong>by</strong> Aunt Isabel's broom, found themselves on the azotea<br />
where they could commune in liberty among the little arbors. What did they tell each other in murmurs that<br />
you nod your heads, O little red cypress flowers? Tell it, you who have fragrance in your breath and color on<br />
your lips. And thou, O zephyr, who learnest rare harmonies in the stillness of the dark night amid the hidden<br />
depths of our virgin forests! Tell it, O sunbeams, brilliant manifestation upon earth of the Eternal, sole<br />
immaterial essence in a material world, you tell it, for I only know how to relate prosaic commonplaces. But<br />
since you seem unwilling to do so, I am going to try myself.<br />
<strong>The</strong> sky was blue and a fresh breeze, not yet laden with the fragrance of roses, stirred the leaves and flowers<br />
of the vines; that is why the cypresses, the orchids, the dried fishes, and the Chinese lanterns were trembling.<br />
<strong>The</strong> splash of paddles in the muddy waters of the river and the rattle of carriages and carts passing over the<br />
Binondo bridge came up to them distinctly, although they did not hear what the old aunt murmured as she saw<br />
where they were: "That's better, there you'll be watched <strong>by</strong> the whole neighborhood." At first they talked<br />
nonsense, giving utterance only to those sweet inanities which are so much like the boastings of the nations of<br />
Europe--pleasing and honey-sweet at home, but causing foreigners to laugh or frown.<br />
She, like a sister of Cain, was of course jealous and asked her sweetheart, "Have you always thought of me?<br />
Have you never forgotten me on all your travels in the great cities among so many beautiful women?"<br />
He, too, was a brother of Cain, and sought to evade such questions, making use of a little fiction. "Could I<br />
forget you?" he answered as he gazed enraptured into her dark eyes. "Could I be faithless to my oath, my<br />
sacred oath? Do you remember that stormy night when you saw me weeping alone <strong>by</strong> the side of my dead<br />
mother and, drawing near to me, you put your hand on my shoulder, that hand which for so long a time you<br />
had not allowed me to touch, saying to me, 'You have lost your mother while I never had one,' and you wept<br />
with me? You loved her and she looked upon you as a daughter. Outside it rained and the lightning flashed,<br />
but within I seemed to hear music and to see a smile on the pallid face of the dead. Oh, that my parents were<br />
alive and might behold you now! I then caught your hand along with the hand of my mother and swore to love<br />
you and to make you happy, whatever fortune Heaven might have in store for me; and that oath, which has<br />
never weighed upon me as a burden, I now renew!